


Stay for Awhile

by mollyscribbles



Category: Emma Approved
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Race Changes, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:01:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollyscribbles/pseuds/mollyscribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roberta Martin isn't what many expect of an IT worker, but she's good at what she does.  Her life is simple -- go to work, play poker, go bird-watching.  Until she meets Harriet Smith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay for Awhile

Roberta Martin had known when she signed up for her first IT course what image most people had of IT workers -- a straight white male with glasses and poor social skills.

Roberta . . . wore glasses.

But computers spoke to her in a way that nothing else truly did; the sheer level of satisfaction that could come from debugging, or fitting together hardware to build your own computer, or finding the one typo in the code that had messed up an entire site and seeing everything snap into place when it's fixed. Computers made _sense_ in a way that people didn't. They didn't care what you looked like or who you liked, as long as you could figure out how to resolve an error message.

Social skills, admittedly, hadn't come as easily to her, but she made sure to expand the effort. The most useful thing Roberta's mother had ever taught her was how to keep her reactions hidden; to smile and be polite even to the rude -- it tended to catch the assholes of the world off guard. It was a versatile lesson, and had helped her win more than one hand of poker.

Even more than her mother, she'd always be grateful to the professor in her senior year who spent two weeks on how to speak with clients and employers -- nominally a crash course in social skills for those entering a profession generally thought to be for those lacking in that area, but useful to anyone. Even the most social of them benefited from lessons like "How to handle someone who denies spilling coffee on their keyboard" and "How to teach a 60-year-old executive to use Google over the phone"

As for her love life . . . the less said about that, the better. She'd considered joining her high school's LGBT group, but meetings were on the same days as the robotics club, and she'd ultimately opted for the one that let her program a soccer-playing robot. At college, she'd just wanted to focus on coursework and not waste her tuition money, and while she hadn't considered herself in the closet since the day when her teenage crush prompted her to pin a Xena poster on her wall, she rarely bothered to actually tell anyone. Frankly, it felt like turning to someone and letting them know her hair color; it was just a fact about herself that didn't exactly fit into the average conversation.

Entering the working world after graduating with honors, she knew the job market wasn't always welcoming of women in IT. She took the first entry-level position she was offered, just to make sure she had an income, then kept sending her resume out in hopes of something better. She moved from job to job once a year or so as opportunities presented themselves, the better options coming after she was able to upgrade her interview wardrobe from 'broke student' to 'office professional'. 

One year, during an office Secret Santa exchange, she received a book on bird-watching. It might have been chosen as the sort of gift you get someone you don't know anything about, but Roberta took to it. It was the perfect hobby for an introvert like her (who was also willing to admit she could use a bit of fresh air now and then).

So it went, unremarkable job after unremarkable job, saving money, spending time with friends, watching the birds, winning poker games, and doing her best to eat in a vaguely healthy manner on a budget (while finding increasingly creative ways to make meals centered around nacho cheese for one memorable year). She was satisfied with her life, such as it was, only occasionally facing a niggling feeling she should set life goals beyond bird-watching trips or being featured on the cover of three different companies' recruitment pamphlets.

Then came the interview with Emma Approved; she was glad she'd worn her lucky tie.

Alex Knightly wasn't like a depressingly large number of the other interviewers she'd encountered over the years. He didn't become awkward and closed-off two seconds after her gender and race registered, he never tried to look down her shirt, he didn't randomly blurt out assurances he wasn't racist, she didn't have the impression that she was only being considered to fill a quota of minority employees, and he actually read over her resume. She left the interview filled with confidence, and when the call came that she'd gotten the job, it wasn't a surprise.

Her new office (she had her own office!) at Emma Approved was spacious and tastefully decorated. Roberta wondered how long it would take to shake off the vague feeling that she was sitting in someone else's office. Maybe she should have brought in some of her desk toys, but experience told her that not every office had the same policy in that area. Some offices didn't want you to have anything on your desk, some were fine with a tasteful framed photo or desk calendar, some liked action figures, and others expected you to come to work equipped with your own Nerf arsenal. From her first impression, the offices at Emma Approved leaned more toward the tasteful dust-collectors than suction-cup darts. Maybe one of her nicer birding photos in a pretty frame . . .

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. The door that, she now realized, she'd forgotten to close. She turned, slipping on a professional smile . . . which was quickly replaced by a more genuine one. There in the doorway, holding a pastel folder, stood the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. Seriously, she half-expected songbirds to appear and serenade the moment.

"Um, hi. I'm Harriet Smith. You're the new IT guy, right?" She froze. "I'm sorry. Should I have said IT person?"

Awkwardness gave way to a need to reassure Harriet. "No, it's fine. IT guy may as well be a job title; it's not the worst thing I've been called, and preferable to 'Hey, you, go un-jam the printer'." She held out a hand, suddenly wishing she'd spent a bit more time at the off-campus bars learning to flirt. "I'm Bobbi Martin, but my friends call me Martin."

Harriet shook the extended hand, and Roberta was thankful that her sudden nervousness hadn't resulted in extreme palm sweat. "So. You work here, too?" _Smooth, Martin, smooth_

"Yes. I'm Emma Woodhouse's new assistant. She's really busy so I guess that means I should probably be in my office in case she needs me, but I wanted to say hi. Feel free to come see me if, I dunno, you need to know something about the place."

Roberta smiled. "I certainly will. And be sure to see me if you have any computer problems. Because that's my job." _Note to self: Google 'how to flirt' later, try to identify options that don't sound stupid_

Harriet flashed her a smile before she hurried away, leaving behind a faint scent of lavender. Probably her shampoo.

Settling into her ergonomic chair (that she really needed to spend a minute adjusting the settings on), Roberta grinned. She made a mental note to put her spare resumes in the recycling bin when she got home. For once, she felt real motivation to stay at a job. 

She reached for the keyboard, then paused. Probably best not to Google flirting tips at work. Though she could always explain it away as getting a feel for the system. Or something.

It was at this point that she realized only the tips of her toes were touching the floor. Right; adjusting the chair settings would be her first priority.

**Author's Note:**

> FYI:  
> I am a socially awkward Caucasian Canadian who doesn't work in the IT field and haven't overcome a plotbunny in over a year; if I have screwed something up, please tell me and I will fix it.


End file.
